The perfect moment. It doesn't come. It has left already With the perfect ones We were and will be Before and after now. I'd love to whisper to your ear How perfect you are. A powerful drunkard, quite known, True or not, To use women with his friends To enhance business deal trips, Made a whore out of her For some after a night That was already And didn't even have to pay for it. She got barbwire But didn't kill him With her wannabe heroic gesture, Thinking he'd change his ways After a single night And no more women would be used As meat because the powerful saw. He didn't. She got barbwire And a prostitute label That didn't kill her While a powerful drunkard Got away blurred and hazy. Easy, easy with the painkillers. No lights in sight. No friends of might. No light. The perfect moment. It doesn't come. It has left already With the perfect ones We were and will be Before and after now. O barbedwired girl, Just don't cry about a drunkard into whores Or a label that isn't yours While the drunkard shines And you're left in the dark Both in wards By the way it goes. I'd love to whisper to your ear How perfect you are to us.